Of Dragons, Sorceresses and Prince Charmings
by Aedyn Star
Summary: A slightly confused and ridiculous fairy tale. Charcters including an aging sorceress, Prince charming and his wannabe, overweight cinderella, an shriveled old man, simpleton daughter,and princess seeking dragon.
1. The Sorceress and Preparations

The sky was bright and blue. A castle stood slightly in the distance, surrounded by the casual mist that always encases magic castles as such as this one. And magic this one was. Up through the thick forest and rough inclines of the mountains sat this grey castle. This particular mountain was somewhat lonely, now that no self acclaimed hero had come up seeking help defeating a fire breathing dragon or such. In fact, mused the mountain, there was that one fire breather that kept burning down its forests on the one side. Yet it seemed that everyone had forgotten that a sorceress lived in that little castle above the clouds, just waiting for someone to come ask her for help. The mountain sighed, letting more mist drift across its surface.  
  
Meanwhile the sorceress in her castle was mumbling over a cauldron in her dungeon. In front of her was a book labeled "How to Become an Evil Witch for Dummies." The sorceress, much to her own dismay had aged in those long years of no visits and her once beautiful golden hair now was a silvery grey. As aging had taken a toll on her body, the sorceress had begun to need glassed, and gradually found she need bifocals. Bifocals she refused to get, as she was in denial that she was getting old. So here she stood with her nose pressed against the book, trying to read what ingredients she was supposed to add for the "Frog Prince Spell."  
  
"An eye of newt?" the sorceress, whose name happened to Mildred, exclaimed. "Where am I supposed to get eye of newt?" Looking around her dungeon, which was no longer a dungeon but a potion room, she searched for eye of newt. Discovering she had none, she decided to use an eye of a needle as a substitute. She dropped the needle in and it puffed up purple smoke, and left Mildred in a coughing fit. "Oh dear, that will never do!" Mildred, who was known as Millie to her friends, when they showed decided. The stench which was wafting up from the cauldron was unbearable, and Millie searched her dungeon for something to make it, well not smell. "Ah ha!" Millie cried when she found a large bottle of ground cinnamon. "This should do." she said, proceeding to dump the entire bottle into her mixture. The potion retaliated by spitting white sparks out at Millie, who narrowly avoided them by jumping behind her rocking chair.  
  
When the pot settled down from spitting fire, Millie got out from behind the rocking chair and looked at the potion, satisfied. "Now I just need to test it!" Carefully she took a funky shaped bottle and filled it with the potion, which tried to catch her on fire a few more times. Millie simply shook her head at the potion and tsked a few times, and it stopped. In the glass bottle that Millie now held in her hand the potion had turned a deep orange color and was threatening to bubble over and onto Millie's hand. Almost cheerfully Millie stuck a cork stopper into the bottle and put it into a basket.  
  
Millie hurried up the stairs, wincing at the arthritis pain that shot through her knees every step she took. Given her denial of aging, Millie was not taking an arthritis medication either. Once upstairs, Millie put a ragged black cloak around her shoulders, and glamoured herself to look like an elderly lady. (This glamour however was hardly needed, and since Millie had not practiced in a long time, it merely wore off almost instantly.) A broom scoffed from the corner of the grand entrance,(which was no longer so grand) and Millie gave it a sharp look. She had considered taking the broom, but she was still just learning to fly, and walking, she had decided, was much safer, if slower.  
  
And so armed with her potion and her ragged old cloak, Millie set out to find someone to curse.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
Prince Charming observed his reflection in the mirror. Well, he had assumed the name Prince Charming, the name given to him from birth was really Evan, and was a simply squire. And unfortunately, though he was a squire, he was also the least likely to become a knight. Evan had dreams of one day becoming a Prince and marrying any beautiful woman he liked. Every night before he would go to bed he would check his 15 year old face for pimples and wash with a special scrub given to him by the healer down the street. In fact, he was currently preparing for one of the many balls that the real Prince Charming was to be holding tonight. It was going to be a series of three balls, and by the third night, Prince Charming was to choose his bride. However unlikely the chances may be that perhaps one of the lovely ladies dancing at the ball would find him attractive over the Prince Charming, Evan felt the need to be as prepared as possible.  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
While the Prince Charming wanna-be was in the squire's wing getting ready for the ball, the real Prince Charming was throwing a temper tantrum over what outfit he would wear. The maids who attended to him had lain out a pair of maroon breaches, a natural colored shirt with a high collar that was rimmed in fancy lace and a pair of very expensive black leather boots. These clothes Prince Charming found simple unacceptable, and demanded that something better and richer be presented to him. The poor maids had gone through his entire wardrobe several times and nothing had pleased Prince Charming. After the three hundred and thirty third outfit tried, King Philipp had knocked on the door, demanding his son be ready in the next few minutes. Knowing he could not deny his father or the king, Prince Charming sulkily agreed to wear the clothes originally laid out for him, claiming they made him seem "down to earth." The maids however, just rolled their eyes and pushed him out the door.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Another story I'm putting out. It seems whenever I get writers block in the story I'm actually trying to finish, I get all these other ideas that just have to get written down. And some like this one eventually get changed and twisted anyway. This story had started out as a retelling of the ballet The Firebird, but it has somehow changed itself into a Terry Pratchett like fairy tale mix of Cinderella and the Frog Prince. Enjoy! 


	2. Angry Faeries and Princess Seeking Drago...

Forlornly the woman gazed into the mirror's cold surface. Sighing wistfully she turned away and the mirror scoffed. The lady turned around and glared angrily at the mirror, who tried it's best to look sorry. Despite the mirror's long acting history, it did not succeed. Annoyed at the dumb mirror Joan picked up a rather large baseball bat and whipped it at the mirror. Much to Joan's dismay, the bat missed, causing the mirror to erupt into loud, obnoxious laughs.

Joan decided to just ignore the stupid thing and return to her bedchamber, where her clothes for the evening were so neatly strewn about. Grumbling to herself she managed to squeeze herself into a too tight skirt and a belly bearing top. Last but not least she proceeded to attach a pair of large, rather fake looking wing. It seemed almost every mortal was convinced that in order to be a fairy you needed a set of gauzy fluttering wings. After being fired from her job as fairy godmother, Joan was strapped on cash, causing for her to settle for a less than desirable Halloween costume look.

Reflecting on the manner in which she had been fired; Joan felt the child had deserved what was coming towards her. After all, how many ill tempered people can handle catering to a selfish girl's every wish? Certainly not Joan.

So in this rather awkward, uncharacteristic manner, Joan found herself walking (yes walking, not flying) to another poor girl's house, ready to grant her every wish.

"Ella! Get down here this instant!" A sharp nosed woman screeched from the downstairs.

"More! More! It has to be tighter if I am to look my best." Ella primly ignored the orders of her step mother and proceeded to instruct the poor maid to further tighten her corset.

Sighing the maid complied, though her hands were already red from the biting of the laces. Why the mistress ahd to insist on such a vicious corset, the maid would never know.

"I'm warning you one last time, you had better get down here right now, or we will leave without you!" Marie called one more time in vain, in hopes that her step daughter would comply. After waiting a few heartbeats, Marie decided to give up, and quickly ushered her biological children into the carriage.

"But mother, I don't want to go!" Clara, the youngest protested.

"Nonsense, don't you want the Prince to fall in love with you?" Marie asked annoyed. Clara looked thoughtful.

"No." she replied frankly.

"Get in the damn carriage." Marie ordered angrily. Clara cowered slightly and climbed into the carriage sighing. Carefully smoothing out her large, voluminous dress Marie settled in next to her daughters and ordered the driver to take them away.

Ella heard the clip clopping of horse's hooves against the bricks downstairs and pulled herself away from the mirror. The maid still holding onto the ribbons was dragged part way across the room before letting go, releasing the rolls of fat that clung to the sides of Ella's (once) slim figure.

"They left without me!" she cried, before slumping into a messy ball of silk and taffeta.

Thunderbolt looked around his lair broodingly. Everywhere there was treasure, heaps of gold, silver, and ...wood. Yes wood. Thunderbolt yawned, sending a stream of thick smoke across the room.

His gaze came to rest on a large photo of a beautiful woman. It was something Thunderbolt had managed to keep after burning a stupid and over enthusiastic knight into a crisp. Sometimes Thunderbolt regretted burning people without inhibition, but he just couldn't help it. Even after Millie the aged sorceress tamed him halfway, he still got a sick pleasure at watching live people go up in flame. Maybe it had something to do with the ridiculous name Mildred had given him. He would have preferred a name like Ravyn or Misque, something exotic. Mildred however had a very limited imagination and had called him Thunderbolt.

He stratched his head, wishing for an idea to magically come to him. Almost everything came to him magically, everything except for ideas. He had once overheard someone saying he was the least intelligent dragon in the land, something he had regettedly decided was true. It was hardly his fault however. When you live in a dark cave in the middle of a mountain and you exhale hot smoke every few seconds, you could hardly not expect for at least part of his brain to melt.

Then the unexpected happened! As he sat staring at the picture an idea came to him! Maybe he could capture a princess. He dimly remembered reading a story about dragons that would kidnap princesses to eat and sacrifice. Thunderbolt did not particularly like the taste of flesh, he was a vegetarian, but capturing a princess would definitely add some spice and adventure to his life.

Decisive Thunderbolt stomped over the the entrance of his cave. Expanding his great ruby colored wings his let out a great burst of fire, causing the fire around him to burst into flame. Smiling to himself he jumped off the cliff, feeling the wind catch beneath his giant wings. Then he soared towards the nearest palace. The palace of King Philipp and Prince Charming.

Millie looked up as the great shadow of a dragon passed over the village. She smiled as she recognized Thunderbolt, her pet dragon. The villagers around her screamed and fled into their houses, leaving Millie alone in the street.

Now alone, Millie hobbled through the streets of the small, un-named village. Most villages in the land were un-named, too small and insignificant. It was thought that this might anger the villagers, who would just name the village themselves, but it seemed the villagers were all too lazy to disobey the law of King Philipp.

Milllie entered a small, in descript tavern. Letting the cloak fall from her head, Millie expected to have the eyes of everyone in the tavern on her. Instead, a small crumpled looking man gave her one look and started laughing, while everyone else ignored her. Shaking her head Millie ordered a drink. People just did not recognize true beauty these days.

A/N: I decided to go against almost everyone's wishes, and updated this story instead. This is somewhat of a challenge for me, since I am not really a humorous writer. I hope that this matched the first chapter as much as I think it does.

Anyway, I drew some inspiration from a few authors here, of whom I hope they don't mind:

the cranky fairy godmother: Danelle's story Broken Glass (sort of, the only thing in common is that they are reluctant to help others and need to please the faery queen, which I will talk about later.)

stealing a princess: this is actually from Patricia Wrede's Enchanted Forest chronicles, but only sort of.

Well, please review, I would very much like to hear any comments. But please no flames!

oh and I'm hoping to change the title of this story so it sounds a little more sophisticated, so if you have any ideas, please let me know! Thanks!!

lots of love and inspiration

Aerinha


	3. Confused and Stolen Princess

The day began like normal for Diamanta. She awoke, and had her bath of seaweed and gravy, which she insisted kept her skin pure as milk. (The servants would protest otherwise.) Relatively attractive, Diamanta needed the whole day to prepare herself for the upcoming ball.

Her mother stood fussing over Diamanta's blonde hair. Millicent was a very regal woman who insisted on running a tight household. Her husband had since died, being rather old and decrepit as he was. With her black hair pulled back in a tight bun, and a face that was always powdered white as cow's milk, it was hard to believe that she was the sister of Mildred, our loveable, incapable sorceress.

Millicent did not however, possess the powers that Millie did, and it caused her to be very sinister. She had tried everything to gain her power, from holding her head underwater until she passed out to jumping off a cliff to see if she could fly. Once she had learned that she could not ever be magical, she turned to other, worse practices. A sly and cunning woman, Millicent could tear a person down, or make them seem like they are on top of the world.

Diamanta did not; thankfully inherit her mother's hate and cunning. In fact, Diamanta was the dullness of princesses, which by the way, is VERY dull. She was the only one in the household who had not stopped believing that fairies lived under water and in mounds of sand. She only _knew_ about six fairies who had told her these things. Despite her lack of intelligence, Diamanta was a very caring and gentle girl.

"Mother, please stop fussing over me! I am perfectly capable of telling the servants to make up my hair myself." Diamanta gently pushed Millicent away.

"Darling, I severely doubt that. You make up her face, and _do _your hair." Millicent rarely showed gentleness, and it was always only directed towards her daughter. Never mind she had another daughter Emeraulde, Diamanta was number one on her list.

A ring came on the door and Millicent left her daughter's side to answer the door. The servants left the room as Diamanta silently motioned for them to leave. She was in fact not waving them away, but pointing at the floor; however the servants had grown used to Diamanta's confused demands.

Just then the whole house shook, and Millicent ran into her daughters room just in time to see her being carried off by a large ruby red dragon.

-

A/N:

I know this doesn't match the other chapters, and I'm sorry it is really short, but I hope you can come to understand where I'm going. the whole idea for this story is still very confused, but I'm sure I'll end up at the end sometime.


	4. The Ball Beginning and Sorceress Travels

Prince Charming made his way into the ballroom, as dramatic as a princess would. Everyone looked up at him and bowed low. He nodded and everyone returned to their conversation as though he did not exist.

Slowly, but surely the women were lining up to greet him. Many wore masks, despite the fact that the ball specifically asked for no masks, but that is what happen when you invite large numbers of princesses, they tend to be rather dull.

The doors of the ballroom opened and a magnificent looking Millicent stood in the doorway, plumes of smoke echoing behind her dramatically. She coughed slightly and annoyed glared about her and the smoke stopped. A woman's glare can do that sort of thing.

"I need to see the King, at once!" she half shrieked, while still managing to keep her cool. For all of history, Millicent was the only woman who could manage such a thing. The only person who could do that sort of thing, to be exact.

Someone came forward and offered their arm to Millicent, who gladly took it and descended the stairs like her request was nothing special. Most people could not just waltz into the King's ballroom and demand to see him. Millicent could. It was another one of Millicent's many talents.

Grumbling, Joan was walking down the main street of the village when a small beeping noise started going off in her back pocket. Fairies tend to be more technologically advanced than the rest of the population; otherwise, they wouldn't be fairies and be revered as the wiser race.

Muttering angrily to herself like always, Joan pulled out a small black box. A little red light kept flashing and the beeping continued. Joan began pressing random buttons trying to get the beeping to stop, while those who were walking around her began giving her funny looks. Despite fairies being more technologically advanced, most fairies didn't _really_ know how to use their advanced little gadgets, and preferred the easier method of a letter or a phone call. Oh wait, phones were still another technological advancement, but most fairies had become used to it by now.

Finally the damn box stopped beeping and Joan continued walking nonchalantly, pretending there were not at least twenty people staring at her. Never mind she was still wearing her ridiculous wings, but most people didn't really see that kind of thing.

She had managed to decode from her beeping box that there was a young woman on fifth avenue who needed the attention of a fairy godmother. Her name was Ella, and she wanted to go to the Prince's ball.

_Oh great_ thought Joan.

Millie finished her fifth drink and glared at the crumpled man who had laughed at her before.

"Do I know you?" she slurred slightly. (Even witches can't help getting a little drunk, especially the older, I mean younger ones.)

The man laughed and nodded. "Oh course you know me." he cackled. Millie looked at him closer he pulled back the hood that had covered his head. His features were distorted and his grin lopsided. "Can you guess my name?" he said slyly, his voice rough and crackly.

Millie leaned back and grinned. "Uncle Rump! How could I ever forget?" Millie clapped him on the back. He winced visibly.

"Good question..." he muttered, "How can you forget something like me?" But Millie was no longer paying attention. She had passed out on the bar, her grey hair falling across the table.

The bartender looked over and wrinkled his nose. "Gross." he muttered, before sending someone to help Millie to a room.

Thunderbolt carried his prize back to his cave, his prize screaming the whole way.

"How dare you steal me, you creature!" Diamanta shrieked (She didn't study her magical creatures very well while in school, otherwise she _obviously_ would have recognized him as a first class red fire dragon.)

Thunderbolt placed her down gently in his cave. She instantly ran to the edge, but backed away quickly when she saw how far down and steep the slope was. For once, Thunderbolt was glad he lived on the steep side of the mountain, and that Diamanta didn't have enough brains to simply look out the other entrance. Thunderbolt quickly moved his body so he blocked that entrance, just in case Diamanta came to her senses. She didn't, since she didn't really possess any to begin with.

She turned around and glared angrily at Thunderbolt. he cowered slightly. The glare of even a pretty woman can be very menacing, even when the pretty woman doesn't really know why she is glaring. "Why did you steal me from my palace?" Diamanta demanded. "I was getting ready for the Prince's ball!" She wailed and sat down on a rock before standing up again, disgusted. "Now my dress is all dirty!" she wailed again.

Thunderbolt began to regret his decision to steal a princess.

Ha, um yeah, this story still isn't really going anywhere quite yet, but I'm getting there, I promise , its just gonna take a while.

hope you liked this chapter, I think it was little more in character than the last chapter. well cheers!

Aerinha


End file.
